THE GREAT RIDDLE
Max was cautious in the matter of making promises, as every honest man
should be, since he had no thought of breaking them once they were
given. Therefore, he wished to know that he could keep his word before
pledging it. His lifelong habit of asking my advice may also have
influenced him in refusing the promise that he so much wished to give;
or perhaps he may have wanted time to consider. He did not want to give
the promise on the spur of an impulse.
When he had finished telling me his troubles, I asked:--
"What will you do to-morrow night?"
My riddle was again solved; Yolanda was the princess. Her words were
convincing. All doubt had been swept from my mind. There would be no
more battledore and shuttlecock with my poor brain on that subject. So
when Max said, "I do not know what I shall do," I offered my opinion;
"You surprise me, Max. You lack enterprise; there is no warmth in your
blood. The girl cannot harm you. Give her the promise. Are your veins
filled with water and caution?"
"What do you mean, Karl?" cried Max, stepping toward me with surprise
and delight in his face. "Are you advising me wrongly for the first time
in my life?" Then there was a touch of anger in his voice as he
continued: "Have I blood in my veins? Aye, Karl, burning, seething
blood, and every drop cries wildly for this girl--this child. I would
give the half of it to make her my wife and to make her happy. But I
would not abate one jot of my wretchedness at her expense. As I treat
her I pray God to deal with me. I cannot make her my wife, and if I am
half a man, I would not win her everlasting love and throw it to the
dogs. She all but asked me last night to tell her of my love for her,
and almost pressed hers upon me, but I did not even kiss her hand. Ah,
Karl, I wish I were dead!"
The poor boy threw himself on the bed and buried his face in his hands.
I went to him and, seating myself on the bed, ran my fingers through
his curls.
"My dear Max, I have never advised you wrongly. Perhaps luck has been
with me. Perhaps my good advice has been owing to my great caution and
my deep love for you. I am sure that I do not advise you wrongly now. Go
to the bridge to-morrow night, and give Yolanda the promise she asks.
If she wants it, give her the ring. Keep restraint upon your words and
acts, but do not fear for one single moment that my advice is wrong.
Max, I know whereof I speak."
Max rose from the bed and looked at me in surprise; but my advice jumped
so entirely with the longing deep buried in his heart that he took it as
a dying man accepts life.
The next evening Max met Yolanda under the trees near the bridge.
"I may remain but a moment," she said hurriedly and somewhat coldly. "Do
you bring me the promise?"
"Yes," answered Max. "I have also brought you the ring, Fräulein, but
you may not wear it, and no one may ever see it."
"Ah, Max, it is well that you have brought me the promise, for had you
not you would never have seen me again. I thank you for the promise and
for the ring. No one shall see it. Of that you may be doubly sure. If by
any chance some meddlesome body should see it and tell this arrogant
lady of the castle that I have the keepsake she sent you, there would be
trouble, Max, there would be trouble. She is a jealous, vindictive
little wretch and you shall not think on her. No doubt she would have me
torn limb from limb if she knew I possessed the jewel. When I touch it,
I feel that I almost hate this princess, whose vast estates have a
power of attraction greater than any woman may exert."
There was real anger in her tone. In truth, dislike and aversion were
manifest in every word she spoke of the princess, save when the tender
little heart pitied her.
"Now I must say good night and adieu, Sir Max, until uncle returns,"
said Yolanda. She gave Max her hands and he, in bringing them to his
lips, drew her close to him. At that moment they were startled by a
boisterous laugh close beside them, and the fellow calling himself Count
Calli slapped Max on the back, saying in French:--
"Nicely done, my boy, nicely done. But you are far too considerate. Why
kiss a lady's hand when her lips are so near? I will show you, Fräulein
Castleman, exactly how so delicate a transaction is conducted by an
enterprising gentleman."
He insultingly took hold of Yolanda, and, with evident intent to kiss
her, tried to lift the veil with which she had hastily covered her face.
Max struck the fellow a blow that felled him to the ground, but Calli
rose and, drawing his dagger, rushed upon Max. Yolanda stood almost
paralyzed with terror. Max was unarmed, but he seized Calli's wrist and
twisted it till a small bone cracked, and the dagger fell from his hand
to the ground. Calli's arm hung limp at his side, and he was powerless
to do further injury. Max did not take advantage of his helplessness,
but said:--
"Go, or I will twist your neck as I have broken your wrist."
Max had gone out that evening without arms or armor. He had not even a
dagger.
When Calli had passed out of sight, Yolanda stooped, picked up his
dagger, and offered it to Max, saying:--
"He will gather his friends at once. Take this dagger and hasten back to
the inn, or you will never reach it alive. No, come with me to Uncle
Castleman's house. There you may lie concealed."
"I may not go to your uncle's house, Fräulein," answered Max. "I can go
safely to the inn. Do not fear for me."
Yolanda protested frantically, but Max refused.
"Go quickly, then," she said, "and be on your guard at all times. This
man who came upon us is Count Calli, the greatest villain in Burgundy.
He is a friend of Campo-Basso. Now hasten to the inn, if you will not
come with me to uncle's house, and beware, for this man and his friends
will seek vengeance; of that you must never allow yourself to doubt.
Adieu, till uncle comes."
Max reached the inn unmolested. We donned our mail shirts, expecting
trouble, and took turn and turn watching and sleeping. Next day we hired
two stalwart Irish squires and armed them cap-a-pie. We meant to give
our Italian friends a hot welcome if they attacked us, though we had, in
truth, little fear of an open assault. We dreaded more a dagger thrust
in the back, or trouble from court through the machinations of
Campo-Basso.
The next morning Max sent one of our Irishmen to Castleman's house with
a verbal message to Fräulein Castleman. When the messenger returned, he
replied to my question:--
"I was shown into a little room where three ladies sat. 'What have you
to say?' asked the little black-haired one in the corner--she with the
great eyes and the face pale as a chalk-cliff. I said, 'I am instructed,
mesdames, to deliver this simple message: Sir Max is quite well.' 'That
will do. Thank you.' said the big eyes and the pale face. Then she gave
me two gold florins. The money almost took my breath, and when I looked
up to thank her, blest if the white face wasn't rosy as a June dawn.
When I left, she was dancing about the room singing and laughing, and
kissing everybody but me--worse luck! By Saint Patrick, I never saw so
simple a message create so great a commotion. 'Sir Max is quite well.'
I'm blest if he doesn't look it. Was he ever ill?"
After five or six days we allowed ourselves to fall into a state of
unwatchfulness. One warm evening we dismissed our squires for an hour's
recreation. The Cologne River flows by the north side of the inn garden,
and, the spot being secluded, Max and I, after dark, cooled ourselves by
a plunge in the water. We had come from the water and finished dressing,
save for our doublets, which lay upon the sod, when two men approached
whom we thought to be our squires. When first we saw them, they were in
the deep shadow of the trees that grew near the water's edge, and we did
not notice their halberds until they were upon us. When the men had
approached within four yards, we heard a noise back of us and turning
saw four soldiers, each bearing an arquebuse pointed in our direction.
At the same moment another man stepped from behind the two we had first
seen and came quickly to me. He was Count Calli. In his left hand he
held a parchment. Max and I were surrounded and unarmed.
"I arrest you on the order of His Grace, the duke," said Calli, in low
tones, speaking French with an Italian accent.
"Your authority?" I demanded.
"This," he said, offering me the parchment, "and this," touching his
sword. I took the parchment but could not read it in the dark.
"I'll go to the inn to read your warrant," I said, stooping to take up
my doublet.
"You will do nothing of the sort," he answered. "One word more from
you, and there will be no need to arrest you. I shall be only too glad
to dispense with that duty."
I felt sure he wished us to resist that he might have a pretext for
murdering us. I could see that slow-going Max was making ready for a
fight, even at the odds of seven to two, and to avert trouble I spoke
softly in German:--
"These men are eager to kill us. Our only hope lies in submission."
While I was speaking the men gathered closely about us, and almost
before my words were uttered, our wrists were manacled behind us and we
were blindfolded. Our captors at once led us away. A man on either side
of me held my arms, and by way of warning I received now and then a
merciless prod between my shoulder-blades from a halberd in the hands of
an enthusiastic soul that walked behind me. Max, I supposed, was
receiving like treatment.
After a hundred paces or more we waded the river, and then I knew
nothing of our whereabouts. Within a half-hour we crossed a bridge which
I supposed was the one over the moat at the Postern. There we halted,
and the password was given in a whisper. Then came the clanking of
chains and creaking of hinges, and I knew the gates were opening and the
portcullis rising. After the gates were opened I was again urged forward
by the men on either side of me and the enterprising soul in the rear.
I noticed that I was walking on smooth flags in place of cobble-stones,
and I was sure we were in the bailey yard of the castle. Soon I was
stopped again, a door opened, squeaking on its rusty hinges, and we
began the descent of a narrow stairway. Twenty or thirty paces from the
foot of the stairway we stopped while another door was opened. This, I
felt sure, was the entrance to an underground cell, out of which God
only knew if I should ever come alive. While I was being thrust through
the door, I could not resist calling out, "Max--Max, for the love of God
answer me if you hear!" I got no answer. Then I appealed to my guard:--
"Let me have one moment's speech with him, only one moment. I will pay
you a thousand crowns the day I am liberated if you grant me
this favor."
"No one is with you," the man replied. "I would willingly earn the
thousand crowns, but if they are to be paid when you are liberated, I
fear I should starve waiting for them."
With these comforting words they thrust me into the cell, manacled and
blindfolded. I heard the door clang to; the rusty lock screeched
venomously, and then I was alone in gravelike silence. I hardly, dared
to take a step, for I knew these underground cells were honeycombed
with death-traps. I could not grope about me with my hands, for they
were tied, and I knew not what pitfall my feet might find.
How long I stood without moving I did not know; it might have been an
hour or a day for all I could tell. I was almost stupefied by this
misfortune into which I had led Max. I do not remember having thought at
all of my own predicament. I cannot say that I suffered; I was benumbed.
I remember wondering about Max and speculating vaguely on his fate, but
for a time the thought did not move me. I also remember sinking to the
floor, only half conscious of what I was doing, and then I must have
swooned or slept.
When I recovered consciousness I rose to my feet. A step or two brought
me against a damp stone wall. Three short paces in another direction,
and once more I was against the wall. Then I stopped, turned my back to
the reeking stone, and cursed the brutes that had treated me with such
wanton cruelty. It was not brutal; it was human. No brute could feel it;
only in the heart of man could it live.
By chafing the back of my head against the wall I succeeded in removing
the bandage from my eyes. Though I was more comfortable, I was little
better off, since I could see nothing in the pitiless black of my cell.
I stretched my eyes, as one will in the dark, till they ached, but I
could not see even an outline of the walls.
A burning thirst usually follows excitement, and after a time it came to
me and grew while I thought upon it. My parched throat was almost
closed, and I wondered if I were to be left to choke to death. I knew
that in Spain and Italy such refinement of cruelty was oftened
practised, but I felt sure that the Duke of Burgundy would not permit
the infliction of so cruel a fate, did he know of it. But our captors
were not Burgundians, and I doubted if the duke even knew of our
imprisonment. I suffered intensely, though I believe I could have
endured it with fortitude had I not known that Max was suffering a
like fate.
I believed I had been several days in my cell when I heard a key turn in
the lock. The door opened, and a man bearing a basket and a lantern
entered. He placed the basket on the ground and, with the lantern hung
over his arm, unfastened the manacles of my wrists. In the basket were a
_boule_ of black bread and a stone jar of water. I eagerly grasped the
jar, and never in my life has anything passed my lips that tasted so
sweet as that draught.
"Don't drink too much at one time," said the guard, not unkindly. "It
might drive you mad. A man went mad in this cell less than a month ago
from drinking too much water."
"How long had he been without it?" I asked of this cheering personage.
"Three days," he responded.
"I did not know that men of the north could be so cruel as to keep a
prisoner three days without water," I said.
"It happened because the guard was drunk," answered the fellow,
laughing.
"I hope you will remain sober," said I, not at all intending to be
humorous, though the guard laughed.
"I was the guard," he replied. "I did not intend to leave the prisoner
without water, but, you see, I was dead drunk and did not know it."
"Perhaps you have been drunk for the last three or four days since I
have been here?" I asked.
He laughed boisterously.
"You here three or four days! Why, you are mad already! You have been
here only over night."
Well! I thought surely I _was_ mad!
Suddenly the guard left me and closed the cell door. I called
frantically to him, but I might as well have cried from the bottom
of the sea.
After what seemed fully another week of waiting, the guard again came
with bread and water. By that time my mind had cleared. I asked the
guard to deliver a message to my Lord d'Hymbercourt and offered a large
reward for the service. I begged him to say to Hymbercourt that his
friends of The Mitre had been arrested and were now in prison. The
guard willingly promised to deliver my message, but he did not keep his
word, though I repeated my request many times and promised him any
reward he might name when I should regain my liberty. With each visit he
repeated his promise, but one day he laughed and said I was wasting
words; that he would never see the reward and that in all probability I
should never again see the light of day. His ominous words almost
prostrated me, though again I say I suffered chiefly for Max's sake.
Could I have gained his liberty at the cost of my life, nay, even my
soul, I should have been glad to do it.
But I will not further describe the tortures of my imprisonment. The
greatest of them all was my ignorance of Max's fate. It was a frightful
ordeal, and I wonder that my reason survived it.